


What He Awoke To

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Break Up, Established Relationship, Jedi Code, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Reunions, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rescued from his carbonite-induced hibernation, Han is eager to resume his relationship with Luke. But it's been three years, and a lot has changed for Luke in that time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Awoke To

Han failed the first eye test he was given. A day later, just before the briefing, he tried again. Having passed with flying colors this time, he was given clearance to fly the Endor mission.

In between these two tests, Han worked on getting caught up on everything he'd missed the last three years. Despite some harsh setbacks, the Alliance was in good shape, having acquired fleets of new ships, and making stunning advancements in their tech and the organization of their personnel.

Han appreciated all this, though what he had found most interesting were the stories of all the things that had happened to Luke. When they had been on Tatooine, Han was only able to hear Luke, not see him, and their opportunity for conversation had been somewhat limited. Soon after, he and Luke had parted ways, with luke returning to Dagobah to visit Yoda. While on the Falcon, on their way to rendezvous with the headquarters frigate, he had been told in great detail by Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO about the misfortunes that had befallen Luke (and how he’d miraculously survived each of them), the missions he'd flown, the rescues he'd made, and, most worryingly, his long absences, where he pursued his Jedi training in secrecy.

On the frigate, Han had reluctantly turned his attention away from everyone who had a story about Luke, and accepted some reports and data analysis. By the time he got to the briefing room, he was fairly confident that he had recovered his bearings. A mission that promised certain death, against a military force with a thousand times the firepower and defenses? Unconditional devotion to a cause for which he wasn’t getting paid a single credit? Being, basically, a complete fool? Yeah, that sounded like picking up where he’d left off.

“General Solo,” Madine addressed him, “is your strike team assembled?”

Han straightened up. “My team’s ready,” he replied. “I don’t have a command crew for the shuttle.”

It wasn’t that he wasn’t expecting that Leia and Chewie would volunteer – of course they would. It was more like, he didn’t want to be the one to take the initiative of putting them in danger. He was lucky just to be alive, and he owed it to their years of effort. He feared that the moment he presumed anything, he would lose it.

From the back of the room came another volunteer: “I’m with you, too!” he announced. When Han heard that familiar voice, he turned around, elated to see Luke again – actually _see_ him. But what he did not expect to see before him, even after all he'd heard, was a sleek warrior-priest, clad head-to-toe in black and radiating an air of serene confidence. Han was floored; he froze in place, giving Leia the opportunity to rush to embrace him. Han watched them converse briefly, observing Luke’s new body language, smooth and measured. A lightsaber hung at his side, not the plain silver cylinder that had belonged to his father, but a new one, with a ridged hilt and a smattering of copper.

Han was too stunned to offer Luke more than the same amiable but cursory greeting Chewie and Lando gave him. Luke sat next to Leia for the remainder of the briefing, after which everyone filed out to begin preparations. The mission would launch in fifteen hours. Han didn’t have much he needed to do in that time; he had his orders, and the shuttle was ready to fly. He gave the Falcon another once-over, not because it needed it, but because he wanted to snoop around for any additional modifications that Lando and Chewie might have made to his baby and neglected to tell him about. He would need to fly her again soon, to really reacquaint himself…

…but not just now. For now, he had someone else he wanted to reacquaint himself with. Someone who desperately needed their classy new outfit manhandled a little bit, who needed their placid demeanor compromised by some rambunctious shenanigans that were a long time coming.

This was the first time Han had ever known Luke to have his own quarters; back on Hoth, he was still bunking with the other pilots in the dormitories. But he soon saw why Luke now preferred solitude where he could get it: having heard his voice on the other side of the door, giving permission to enter, Han stepped through, where he found Luke sitting on the bed, cross-legged with his hands on his knees, meditating.

The officers’ quarters on these cruisers were cramped, but Luke’s complete lack of decorations or possessions – save for his lightsaber on the chest of drawers – made the place look positively spacious. Luke himself was doing his part to give the room an agreeable tranquility, making Han feel as though he had stepped off a ship and into a temple. There was no chair – Luke gave Han a neutral glance and tilted his head to indicate that Han should sit next to him on the bed.  Unfolding his legs, Luke turned himself slightly so he faced Han, and said, softly but with affection, “Hi.”

“Hey, kid,” Han replied, and smiled with embarrassment at his loss for words. “Haven’t seen you in a while, huh.”

“It must be very strange for you. To feel like you were out for a minute, but to miss three years.”

Han made like he was only shifting to get more comfortable, but then inched closer to Luke. Luke easily saw it for what it was, but said and did nothing. “I’m just grateful that it _did_ only feel like an instant,” Han said. “Imagine being trapped for that long fully conscious.” He shuddered at his own words. “Shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to think of it.”

“Let’s talk about something else, then,” Luke suggested. He put his left hand over Han’s on the mattress, and Han felt something warm and rapturous course through his whole body. Was it Luke’s new Jedi powers? Or was it just the same simple thrill he always felt?

With his free hand, Han reached out to smooth a stray lock of Luke’s silky, sandy hair into place. “You’ve got a different look now. I like it.” Cupping Luke’s face, he leaned in closer, and his voice dropped low, barely audible, as he breathed against Luke’s mouth, “But I’m dying to find out if you still taste the same…”

At the last possible moment, Luke turned his face away, so that Han’s mouth bumped awkwardly against his cheekbone.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke said. “I just can’t.”

Han pulled back, indignant. “Can’t? Why not?” His stomach dropped at his first guess why. “There’s someone else,” he blurted.

Satisfied that Han wouldn’t try kissing him again, Luke turned back to face him. “No. There hasn’t been anyone else. There can’t be, anymore. I’m a Jedi now.”

“What difference does that make? Are Jedi not allowed to mess around or something?”

“We’re not allowed to have attachments to others. It’s forbidden because it’s dangerous. Think about it: how many times have you done something stupid and dangerous for me?”

Han pondered this. “Since I met you…it would take less time to recount the occasions when I _wasn’t_ doing something stupid and dangerous for you.”

“Exactly. And why is that?”

“Because I…Because of the way I…” Han gritted his teeth.

“You don’t have to say it. I know. But think of all the ways you can manipulate someone’s behavior by using those kinds of feelings. By threatening the people they love. Now imagine you could manipulate a person who could use the Force and do powerful things with it. You could exploit their weaknesses the same way, and convince them to do terrible things with their abilities.”

It wasn’t very difficult for Han to imagine this. He had been baffled, at the time, when no interrogation had accompanied his torture by Darth Vader in Cloud City. It was only later – when the whole story of the last three years, beginning with that day, was related to him by C-3PO, and accompanied by Chewie’s occasional embellishments – that Han understood the reason why it was done. It was loyalty to Han that had brought Luke there, and nearly gotten him killed.

Not to mention how unsettled Han was by the realization that the Force was very real, and that it was capable of affecting him and his friends, of being exploited by sinister powers to destroy everything they had worked for.

“So this is because of what happened to me,” Han said. You feel guilty for what happened to me because Vader could exploit your weaknesses?” He rethought that sentence when he called to mind Leia’s story of what had been revealed to Luke when he came to Cloud City. “Or is it because of what happened to _you_ because of _me_?”

“I do feel guilt,” Luke admitted. “I feel terrible about what happened to you and Leia and to the Alliance because of my foolishness. Vader correctly relied on my being reckless to set a trap and gain the upper hand, and to hurt my closest friends in the process…but that’s not all that this is about.”

Luke explained – carefully, knowing what kind of skeptic he was talking to – about the power of the Force, and how he had to purge all emotional attachments before he could become truly adept with it. “I’m just a vessel,” he said. “I have to empty out all these distracting thoughts and feelings, so that I can allow the Force to fill me, give me the strength to do what I must do.”

“Are you absolutely sure,” Han said, slowly, “that this isn't just part of your delusion that you're responsible for the well-being of everyone in the galaxy?”

Luke had to chuckle at this. “I’ve never denied that. But this isn’t….I know it seems sudden to you. But it’s a decision I’ve gradually come to over the last three years.”

 “But what does this mean?” Han snapped. “Does this mean Leia and Chewie and I aren’t your friends anymore?”

Luke was unaffected by Han’s tone, and answered calmly, “You’re still my friends – and I’m still here to fight for the rebellion. But becoming a Jedi has made me understand: even if I weren’t bound by this code, it was always a bad idea to let myself be distracted by romantic entanglements, when the Alliance deserves my complete devotion.”

“Well,” Han scoffed, rising from the bed, “I’d better go then, before I give you any more ‘bad ideas.’ Sorry for the interruption. Sorry for everything.”

“Wait, that’s not—”

But Han was out the door. If he followed, Luke reasoned, they’d just be bringing their fight out where everyone could see it. Han was a smart man. Once he got over his shock, he would realize that Luke’s decision was for the best, and would come to accept things the way they were now.

Luke tried to return to his meditation.

*****

 _This is what happens_ , Han repeated to himself over and over in his mind. _This is what damn well happens_. One time, in one moment of weakness, he’d ignored his primary rule, and let someone into his heart. Not only that, let them take up _residence_ in his heart, and why not knock out a few walls while you’re in there, huh? Just really make the place your own.

And now they were abandoning _him_ , telling _him_ how dangerous it was to get attached to people? Unbelievable.

Han stormed through the corridors. Then, after a while, he paced up and down the corridors. Then, later still, he trudged along the corridors, until at last the adrenaline wore off and he just wanted to lie down. He remembered that he actually could, and wandered until he figured out where on the frigate he’d ended up, so he could make his way to his quarters.

His body was exhausted, but his brain didn’t want to rest, it wanted to dwell, to replay the conversation, over and over, until he’d determined what he could have said differently to get a more favorable outcome – information which was of course completely useless now. Han lay miserable in bed for several more hours before sleep came, and he swore he’d only closed his eyes for an instant when the chronometer buzzed at him to let him know it was time to go.

He dragged himself out of his bunk, taking a ridiculous amount of time to get his boots and holster on. It wasn’t the very real possibility of being captured, imprisoned, and executed by the Empire that made Han dread getting into that stolen shuttle. It was knowing he would be sharing that shuttle with Luke.

Chewie was in the copilot’s seat when Han boarded the shuttle, and Luke was fiddling with the back control panel. Han did not want to betray anything he felt, the sleep he’d lost, to anyone, but he knew that silence would be suspicious, so he said the most mundane, neutral thing he could think of: “You got her warmed?”

“She’s coming up,” Luke replied.

Chewie was grousing about something. Han said absently, “No, I don’t think the Empire had Wookiees in mind when they designed her.”

He gazed out the viewport at the Falcon across the way. In his mind’s eye, Luke was in the gun turret, hollering triumphantly at the shot he’d just landed. That Luke, he remembered, had been so maddeningly guileless, completely unashamed to express emotion, brimming with joyfulness.

Leia leaned against his shoulder. “Hey, you awake?” she teased.

Han snapped out of it, searching for an excuse for his inattention. “Yeah, I just got a funny feeling,” Han said, still gazing at the Falcon. “Like I’m not gonna see her again.” Seemed like something he’d say, and Leia accepted it. Luke said nothing.

In fact, Luke said almost nothing for the duration of the trip. Everyone in the shuttle was perfectly aware that these might be the last few hours of their freedom, or their existence. Han knew it just as well as anyone else, he just didn’t care. He only wished that Chewie and Leia were elsewhere, so he could to turn around, grab Luke, and make an honest effort to change his mind about the whole self-imposed celibacy thing.

Only when the Star Destroyer came into view was there finally something dire enough to take Han’s mind off of his anguish. His blood turned to ice as the voice came over the intercom: “We have you on our screen now. Please identify.”

*****

Han couldn’t pretend to be enthralled by C-3PO’s story. He was pretty familiar with the whole thing, to start with, having lived most of it. But, hey, whatever sustained the goodwill of the native population, and got the rebels close enough to disable the shield generator, was fine with him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke get up. Han turned to watch him slink out of the hut. Reflexively, he moved to follow Luke, thinking it would be nice to get some fresh air with him. But then he remembered – yes, he’d managed to forget for just a moment – that following Luke around would make him look like a chump. A needy chump, and a pest. Already, he’d spent the whole mission feeling hopelessly clumsy next to Luke’s serene and absolute control. Luke had a new and graceful economy of movement which made only occasional exceptions for, say, an amused smirk and tilt of the head at Han’s sardonic expressions of frustration.

And to Han, this aloofness only served to make Luke more desirable. If his somber clothes and restrained manner had made him so enticing the night that Han had visited his quarters, then his recent utter unavailability made everything he did and said seem maddeningly erotic. It was all Han could do to have Luke sitting right behind him in that shuttle and not weep about how he would never have him any closer ever again. Being alone with him in the dark, secluded forest would only tempt him into making a pass at Luke, or doing something else stupid that would earn him another insultingly gentle but firm rejection.

It was hard not to feel betrayed, even though Han knew that Luke had never been anything other than kind and generous. Han supposed he could not fault Luke in the least – who wouldn’t be put off of keeping company with the people whose friendship had cost you so much? Who wouldn’t shun affection, evade companionship, refuse love, when embracing those things had proven so perilous? Luke had made his choice, and Han had never before been able to convince him to change his mind once he’d gotten an idea in his head, so why should this be any different?

Now, Han watched Leia slip out of the hut, presumably to follow Luke, and talk to him about some important not-having-sex-with-Han-Solo business.

With a sigh, Han leaned back and settled in for another of C-3PO’s tales. He was impatient to get back to his own business: the business of always being a hair’s breadth from dying young while doing something foolish.

While he was stuck here, though, he saw no reason not to daydream, admittedly with a colossal amount of melancholy, about the things that he and Luke would certainly have been getting up to in the woods tonight, if things had been a little different.

*****

Sooner or later, elation had to give way to exhaustion. After all the fireworks had been blown up, after all the food had been devoured, after all the bonfires had cooled to embers, Han, like everyone else in the village that morning, realized that he was filthy, reeked of woodsmoke, and had overeaten.

Luke was the only one, in fact, who wasn’t looking haggard, just before dawn, even though he had been through more than anyone else in this whole ordeal. Lingering outside one of the huts, ready to make his way back to the Falcon, Han found himself watching Luke standing contemplatively on a plank bridge. He clenched his fists and tapped his foot anxiously at the thought of approaching Luke, just talking to him – but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t even so much about what had happened between them two days before. It was because of what Han knew had happened to Luke up there, while they’d been down here disabling the shield generator.

For a short while, Han had, foolishly, thought of this new Luke as an ethereal being who was no longer in thrall to the laws of the universe, moving through the world but no longer of it. This only made Luke’s loss, his anguish, harder for Han to witness. Grief had always been a difficult emotion for him to deal with, to be in proximity to. It was a feeling he never allowed himself to indulge in. He knew that if he tried to offer any words, he’d just end up putting his foot in his mouth. All that stuff was Leia’s department. It was getting to the point where every time Han saw Luke, he just felt a cruel mix of guilt and embarrassment.

He took another route out of the Ewok village.

As he slogged his way to the docking bay to crash in his bunk on the Falcon, his belly was overfull and his head swam with intrusive thoughts, but his chest felt empty. He turned off all communication devices and chronometers and slept.

*****

The following day, Han, Chewie, and the Falcon were back on the headquarters frigate. The Imperial fleet had vanished into hyperspace, leaderless and panicked. They were far from finished, and they would be back once they’d regrouped, but in the meantime, Han, like everyone else, was debriefed, and visited the medical center for injuries sustained during battle that had seemed too minor to bother having treated – not when there had been a party afterward to attend.

When he had completed his duties and gotten patched up, Han grabbed a meal from the dining facility. He sat down to eat it in solitude, ruminating on how tiresome the mission had been – he hadn’t even found the peril secretly fun, like he always used to. It wasn’t long before he decided to take the food to his quarters; the elation of victory had made its way up to the frigate, and several sickeningly sweet displays of affection between various couples and trios in the facility made Han’s heart hurt.

It was a long way back to his quarters; Han distracted himself with a mental list of every repair needed on the Falcon – fitting a new radar dish, and taking care of the carbon scoring, just to start with. He had eaten most of the food off his tray by the time he got to his destination. While he was keying in the door code, Luke suddenly rounded the corner and approached him, asking, “Do you have some time to talk?”

What was Han going to say? No? “Come on in,” he muttered.

He’d had no problems talking to Luke on Endor, when he could keep his focus on what to do to not get killed at any given moment. Here, now, his heart was in his throat. As the door shut behind them, Han set his tray aside and stood in the middle of the room, waiting for what Luke had to say. Just the way Luke moved towards him, with his new measured confidence, made Han burn with raw desire. He steeled himself – it was going to take every fiber of his resolve to resist the temptation to try convincing Luke to change his mind, regardless of what Luke had come here to actually discuss.

Luke took a deep breath and began:

“When I said the things I said to you the other day, no one was certain that the Endor mission would succeed. We might have had to flee in the shuttle, and nothing else would have even come close to happening. The rebellion might have had to fight on for years more, decades more. But now that it has all happened, now that the Alliance has achieved the greatest success imaginable, I’ve been doing some thinking, about where my own path lies.”

He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “What brought us to this victory,” he went on, “was every single thing that preceded it. The Emperor is dead, the Death Star has been destroyed, the Empire is in tatters, and all of that is because of every good thing and every bad thing that happened.” He paused, swallowed. “Including what happened between us.”

Han’s stomach leapt. “You changed your mind,” he gasped.

Luke put a hand up. “Don’t– Just let me say this.” He took another breath. “This war is not over, but I’ve done all I can. I’m leaving, to find more Jedi, and rebuild the Order.”

Han tingled with the useless rush of adrenaline that had just suffused his body. He absorbed Luke’s declaration with disappointment, but then considered that perhaps it was better that way. For Luke to be gone entirely from Han’s life might be less miserable for him than for Luke to be nearby, but just as unattainable.

But Luke wasn’t done talking. “What we had was nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t a betrayal of the Jedi and what they stood for. It couldn’t be – I know it in my heart.”

Han blinked. That seemed like the complete opposite of what Luke had told him before. Had his confrontation with Vader and the Emperor somehow resulted in his changing his mind about _love?_

“That doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together,” Luke continued. “I have too much work to do, and so do you. But before I go…I want to share one more night with you.”

A chill shot down Han’s spine. If this offer was less than he wished for, he didn’t care. He was ready to accept it, as a man dying of thirst was ready to accept a drink of seawater. “Right now?” he asked.

“You have anywhere you need to be?” Luke said, eyebrow raised.

Han reached past Luke and slammed down the switch to lock the door. “I do now.” Leaning back, he pulled Luke into his arms, holding him tightly until he felt the warmth of his body bleed through their clothes. With his face in Luke’s hair, he inhaled deeply, breathing in his familiar scent. He ran his hands down Luke’s arms, from his biceps (thicker than Han remembered), to his slender wrists, to his hands – one of which was still clad in a black glove. Han saw no reason not to get right to the task of undressing Luke, so he pinched one of the fingertips of the glove and yanked it off. Doing so exposed the gash on the back of Luke’s hand, where a blaster hit had burned away the synthetic flesh. The metal reflected the lamplight, and the hum of tiny servos was audible as Luke’s fingers flexed minutely.

Flinching, Han sputtered, “Oh hell, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s why you had the glove on. When…when did you take blaster fire?”

“On Jabba’s sail barge,” Luke replied, unfazed. “It’s alright, you were blind at the time, you couldn’t have known. But, someone did tell you about my hand at some point, right?”

Han cradled Luke’s mechanical hand in both of his own, regarding it with the same affection he would pay to any other part of his beautiful body. “They did, yeah, but I forgot. Does it hurt?”

“No. I get sensory signals, but not pain.”

A wicked thought crept up. “Does it, uh, do anything a regular hand can’t do?”

Luke smirked. “Nothing that’s going to make your memory of this night any better. If it bothers you to see it, we can put the glove back on.”

“No, don’t be silly. I’m okay with it.” Han brought the hand to his lips and kissed each of the knuckles in turn. Having done this, he went on, “I mean, I’m not okay with why you have to have it. That makes me furious. But it’s a part of you, so I’m okay with it.”

Letting go of Luke’s hand, Han gripped him around the waist, ready to move on from this grim interlude. He dove in for a kiss, at last reclaiming Luke’s mouth with his own. Passionate, imprecise, he pushed his tongue between Luke’s lips, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. He kept his grip on Luke tight, and pressed up against him, so hard that Luke was forced to take half a step backwards. Han persisted, nudging Luke back incrementally until the backs of Luke’s knees hit the bunk and he toppled onto it. Han didn’t follow him; instead, he kneeled down and grabbed Luke’s boots one by one and yanked them off. He did the same with his own, and only then did he crawl on top of Luke, resuming the hard, humid kiss as he worked at the fasteners of Luke’s tunic. Unable to get it open fast enough, he left it and shoved his hands under the hem instead, caressing Luke’s smooth, taut belly, refamiliarizing himself with those planes and curves. When he felt he’d gotten enough for the time being, he returned to working on the fasteners. One of them might have been ripped apart in his haste. Luke put his arms up, to help Han get the tunic the rest of the way off, but now that he’d gotten it open, for a while Han was more concerned with lavishing attention on Luke’s nipples.

“You said there hadn’t been anyone else,” Han mumbled against Luke’s skin. “You wouldn't lie to me? You know what it does to me, knowing I'm the only one you've been with.”

“I told you the truth,” Luke reaffirmed. “No one else has touched this body.”

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on Luke; every inch of flesh Han grabbed was taut, though still smooth and silky – except wherever it wasn’t. Han only now noticed the numerous scars in the dim light; everything was such a blur, such blind exhilaration. Han ran his fingers over half a dozen wounds that Luke hadn’t had before.

“What about these?” he demanded. “What’s this? Who did this to you?”

Luke scoffed “Would you relax? That one happened two years ago. Just a recon mission that went sideways.”

Han traced another scar, what appeared to have been a burn, perhaps from a moment of unwariness during lightsaber training, perhaps something more dreadful. “Sorry, this is a little rough on me, okay?” he said. “I’m upset about this because I wasn’t around to protect you.”

With solemn tenderness, Han pressed his lips to the knot of ruddy tissue. Then, he did the same to a nearby sliver of pale pink that sliced across Luke’s collarbone all the way to his shoulder. He had only one chance to commit these new features of Luke’s body to memory. His quiet, reverent breaths tickled the fine hairs of Luke’s chest and belly, and Luke shivered under his exploration.

There came a point where the damage to Luke’s body became too gruesome to contemplate any further, and Han sat up, ready to do what he could to make Luke forget every one of these wounds, forget everything else, in fact, except for the warm shivers that Han’s touch might send down his spine, the sparks Han would ignite in his belly. Han paused to strip off his own shirt without ceremony, then went for Luke’s belt. He slid it off and looked ready to toss it across the room with a flourish, but Luke protested, “I put the lube in there!” So instead, he simply dropped it, to worry about later. He then went for the fastenings of Luke’s trousers. They fit Luke so close, he had to tug several times to get them all the way off. But the sight would have been worth ten times the effort; Luke’s thighs and calves were still slender, but more shapely now, with long muscles defined by tireless training.

Han had to get up off the bed for the next part, but he did not take his eyes off Luke’s splayed form as he undid his own trousers. His straining erection spilled out into view, and Luke regarded it with fondness.

Han grinned. “Like seeing another long-lost friend, huh?”

Luke reminded him, “For you it was like we saw each other last week, but for me it’s been three years.”

“Trust me,” Han said, shoving his trousers the rest of the way off, “it feels like it’s been three years to me, too.”

Han bent low before diving back into the bunk, so he could slide his whole body against Luke’s as he shimmied up to where he’d been. Now he slid the tunic up Luke’s arms, pushing it the rest of the way off. From that point, he had a difficult time deciding whether he preferred to pin Luke to the bed with his own body, or whether he’d rather have a Luke that could wiggle freely against him, and whose lush rear end was more easily accessible; indecisive, he kept rolling himself on top of Luke, then grabbing him to roll them both over onto their sides. Luke seemed content with either arrangement.

But there was still something odd about the body in Han’s arms, something that seemed differently-shaped, somehow. It wasn’t the muscles – Luke had always been lean and wiry, with a little hidden strength. It was something _beneath_ them, that hadn’t been there before. Han struggled to place it, as they moved together, their limbs entwined and their tongues in a slow tangle. The cool air touched the wet streaks on Han’s belly where their pricks has smeared pre-come. By now, Luke should have been grinding his erection against Han’s hip, begging Han to _do_ something about it. But now, beneath him, Luke was like an ocean, eerily calm, undulating with an unhurried rhythm as old as time. He stretched and arched so gracefully, not with endearing little wriggles and jerks, like he used to.

Between kisses, Han muttered, “What happened to that kid I knew, huh?”

“He’s still here,” Luke insisted.

Han’s gaze lingered over Luke’s scars, over the new lines on his face and the world-weariness in his eyes. “Well, you can’t blame me for being skeptical about you actually being the Luke I knew.”

“I can prove that it’s me.” Luke’s smile had a hint of mischief. He put his lips against Han’s ear, and whispered where he knew Han was ticklish.

With a snort, Han conceded, “I guess it must be you. _No one_ else knows that.”

Then, abruptly, he ducked his head down and stuck his nose in Luke’s armpit, which finally got Luke to giggle.

“…and you do smell the same,” Han remarked.  He took Luke’s hand from where it clutched his side and placed it on his rigid cock. “Now why don’t you help me out, kid. I’m _aching_.”

Luke licked his lips at this request, his expression just a bit lascivious. He kissed a bold but torturously slow path down Han’s chest and belly, lingering over his nipples, darting his tongue in and out of Han’s navel.  Settling in, he pressed the head of Han’s cock against his mouth, kissed it, then used it to part his own lips. Now, at last, Luke felt like he was made of flesh and breath. Now, at last, Han believed that the Luke he’d once known was there, was waking up.

With elegance and precision, with swirls of friction and insistent suction, Luke sent razor-sharp shards of pleasure through Han’s body with his wet, hungry mouth.

It was so good and lush, Han felt like he could just melt into the mattress. He hardly noticed when Luke tucked both hands under his rear end, clutching his buttocks with nimble fingers. Luke readjusted his grip as he sucked, moving his hands incrementally inward, prying those cheeks open, and finally, the very tip of his index finger could just caress the pucker of Han’s hole. Luke timed this to happen while he was suckling hard on the head of Han’s prick, and at the same time prodding the slit with the tip of his tongue. It all added up to a feeling so exquisite, Han cried out, his whole body heaving. An instant later, Luke opened his mouth to gasp. When Han glanced down, Luke was looking spooked.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Luke put his hand over his heart, and laughed a little, to show that he was okay, but he was still panting. “I felt it,” he said. “When I did that to you. _I_ felt it.”

“Doing some of that Force stuff, huh?” Han hauled Luke up so they were face to face, cuddled him a bit to comfort him.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Luke said. “I didn’t mean to do it. It’s just, sometimes I can’t help it. I can’t read people’s thoughts or anything, but sometimes, when my own mind is calm, I can touch other people’s minds, and they can touch mine. It’s never been touched like _that_ before, though.”

Reassured that everything was alright, Han pressed his lips to Luke’s forehead. Then, reaching down, he toyed with the patch of soft blonde fuzz over Luke’s cock. “I’m guessing you’d still prefer direct application of certain physical sensations?” he said slyly.

Luke admitted, “I wouldn’t refuse it.”

Luke had been doing a fantastic job – so good that Han was glad for the interruption, or else he might have put an embarrassingly abrupt end to the evening’s festivities – and now he wanted to return the favor. He was trying so hard to savor every feeling, every brush of fingertips, every spark of sensation, and he knew he wouldn’t feel like he’d even begun to do so until he’d become intoxicated with the rich odors and the quivering velvet shape of Luke’s prick in his mouth.

Han’s path was more direct than Luke’s had been, his fingers and mouth just grazing over Luke’s belly, in a hurry to get lower despite himself. He wanted to grip the shaft of that lovely cock in his hand, to lick the salty droplet from the tip. He brushed his lips against the head; he knew he should tease but was too impatient, and just slid the tip into his mouth. A low, hungry sound stuck in his throat as he slid his plush pink lips eagerly around Luke’s shaft. He could feel Luke’s heartbeat on his tongue.

Luke let slip a grunt of pleasure. Han noticed that he was making more of the old familiar sounds now, though in a subtler manner – echoes of the particular whimpers and moans that he used to utter unabashedly under Han’s mouth and hands. Still, it satisfied Han immensely – it meant he was wrong when he’d thought that the intensity and passion were gone from the new Luke. They were still in that body – they just manifested differently. The scalding lust remained, contained and controlled – and Han was desperate to coax all of it out of him. His tongue worked all over and around Luke’s cock, and when he had eased it as deep into his mouth as he could take it, he hummed with pleasure. His tongue traveled slickly up and down the length, and each of Luke’s groans and gasps was a reward for his labors.

When those cries became more urgent, though, Han started to get nervous. Luke was now begging Han not to stop, and Han wanted to obey, but as Luke’s hips began to stutter, Han thought, _Don’t come yet, we just got started! You want it to be over already?_

A sharp, shivery moan seemed to answer this question for him. Han rolled with it, waited expectantly for Luke to shoot in his mouth, but…there was nothing. Luke’s body stilled, and he uttered a groan of satisfaction, but that was it.

Bewildered, Han slid Luke out of his mouth and said, “Did you just…? Or didn’t you?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention!” Luke beamed with pride as he explained, “I discovered how to have multiple orgasms!”

Han blinked “You discovered what?”

Luke elaborated: “Orgasm and ejaculation are actually two separate things. When I learned this, I then figured out how to squeeze the right muscles so I could have an orgasm without ejaculating, and then have as many orgasms as I wanted.”

Han tilted his head, dubious. “This is the Jedi training you’ve leaving us to pursue?”

“It’s not part of being a Jedi,” Luke said with a dismissive gesture. “It’s purely physiological, something I stumbled upon that was unrelated...Although my training did help me perfect it.”

“That’s great. You figured out how to be even more of a show-off than you already were.”

Luke did not deny this. “I promise not to be too much of a show-off about it,” he said smugly. “One more orgasm, two tops. How’s that?”

It occurred to Han that he was actually very interested in seeing this happen. “Where did you say the lube was?”

Luke laughed and described the specific pouch in his belt. Han reached down, trying to keep as much of himself touching Luke as possible, and snatched the belt off the floor. He found the lube and discarded the belt again. Luke was already spreading his legs, just as eager now as in old times.

Han realized that he might have slid the first finger in too fast, though, when Luke sucked in a breath and clawed at Han’s shoulders, his eyes wide. Han apologized profusely, and started to retreat, but Luke insisted, “No, it’s okay, it’s just been a while since I, you know, had a visitor. Not used to it anymore.”

No matter how many times Luke said it, it always got Han riled up. He had no idea why he was so possessive of Luke that way, but he saw no harm in it, and had to assume Luke appreciated how it amplified his passion whenever it was brought up. Han moved his finger slow but with purpose, got it deep and crooked it gently, exploring the soft outer edges of Luke’s sweet spot. Luke reached up and clutched the sheet on either side of his head.

Han relished the sight of Luke’s cock jumping and twitching when he pushed in a second finger. He was rubbing Luke so gently inside that it was a tease, and Luke was trying to maintain that coolness, that calm, but Han watched his eyes flutter shut and his fingers grasp, and smiled wickedly. The needy gasp when Han then removed his fingers entirely was particularly satisfying, but he said nothing as he slicked up his cock, for fear of making Luke self-conscious.

There was so little resistance when he sank into Luke’s body; just delicious pressure and warmth. Luke couldn’t help but make small, soft noises at the sensation of being so full. He twisted his body upwards to meet Han’s languid thrusts.

Han rocked his hips leisurely, more strongly aware now than he had ever been that he should be in no hurry. He kissed Luke sweetly, reveling in their soft, slow intimacy. But he knew it the moment he hit the sweet spot, because Luke groaned deeply and lifted his legs up, angling himself to get more.

 “You don’t have to be so gentle,” Luke said, his eyes squeezed shut but his smile inviting. “We can do it the way you like to do it.”

Han was about to protest that he didn’t always want to have it rough, but seeing as how this was his last chance, and he’d just been given permission, he figured he’d better take the opportunity. He lifted one hand at a time and placed them tentatively on Luke’s shoulders. Luke nodded to indicate that this was indeed what he meant. So Han straightened his arms, pushing himself up and pressing Luke into the mattress. Luke uttered a pleased grunt at the pressure being applied, and hooked his ankles behind Han’s back, encouraging him to get closer, to get his knees under him so he had the leverage to thrust harder.

Han held Luke down this way and pushed sharply into him. He’d always found a bit of harmless pleasure in taking advantage of Luke’s smaller stature: lifting him up onto a suitable flat surface, grabbing his ankles and spreading him as wide as possible, and holding him down like this, too. He didn’t think of Luke as weak or feminine, but he did enjoy feeling like the more powerful one, the more masculine one, when he did those things.

Again, though, something had changed. To say that Luke was the more formidable between them now was a gross understatement – with his mastery of his new powers, Luke could easily kill Han, if he so desired. It made Han feel ridiculous, acting like it was still possible for him to physically restrain Luke. But the fact was, even though Luke could overpower him, he was still allowing Han to hold him down, give it to him, show him who was in charge. The thought made Han’s dick throb intensely.

If Luke did find anything Han was doing silly, he was concealing it well. His compact body strained for more of everything Han was giving him. He stroked his own cock with vigor, in time with each punch of Han’s hips, until his head lolled back and a fresh wave of ecstasy broke over him. Han pumped him hard through it, and Luke kept convulsing and jerking. But between their bellies, the slit of his cock gave up only the tiniest trickle.

They were both huffing with exertion now, but Luke was squirming beneath Han like he wanted out from under him. “Let me up,” he cried, “I need to breathe.”

Han gently disengaged, genuinely concerned, but a second later he found himself on his back, Luke perched atop him with both hands on his chest. It was so sudden, Han blurted, “Did you do that just now?”

Luke picked up the lube and squeezed it obscenely over Han’s cock. Lining himself up, he sank down smoothly and easily. “That’s better,” he said, almost to himself.

Han was fond of this position too, because it let him both see and touch nearly all of Luke. It was the best position from which to run his hands from Luke’s flushed face all the way down to his trembling thighs, and it also provided the best opportunity to marvel at Luke enjoying himself, riding Han’s rigid cock and submitting to his grabby hands.

Something even more astounding, though, was about to happen. Luke began by leaning back and placing both hands on the mattress, on either side of Han’s knees. This put most of him out of reach, but Han appreciated the arch of Luke’s back, the tautness of his thighs. Then Luke lifted one knee, so that he could plant his foot flat on the mattress. He did this again with the other foot. Now, he was suspended over Han’s supine form, their only point of physical contact the continued slide of Han’s cock in and out of his hole. Luke raised and lowered his hips to make this happen; Han was too stunned to move.

It wasn’t long before Luke had regained their previous momentum. It felt incredible, but it was clear that Luke was not doing it for the tactile sensation – he was putting on a show. From underneath him, Han watched his cock get swallowed up, over and over, by Luke’s body, and Luke’s own cock, bobbing and swaying with each bounce, but a sheen of perspiration also highlighted every inch of Luke tensing and flexing as he held himself up: his thighs twitched, his taut belly quivered, his sleek biceps strained, his chest swelled with each panting breath, his nipples were tightened into tiny peaks, and even his toes curled and dug into the mattress. The jewel in this crown was Luke’s beautiful, serene expression, betraying the occasional hint of dirty pleasure when he clenched his teeth or furrowed his brow. He was a filthy, glowing masterpiece.

The only disadvantage was that it was difficult for Han to touch Luke, in the position he was in – he could not hope to hold him close. But Luke did not seem to be suffering for it, groaning contentedly as he clenched around Han’s girth, at last completely free of inhibition.

A bolt of lust struck Han when he recognized this, and his mouth fell open. There was no mistaking now the feeling of his orgasm building at the root of his cock. “It won’t be much longer, sweetheart,” he groaned.

Luke was glad for the warning, because he wasn’t quite done yet showing Han what his body could do, and he needed a little time. If the angle deep inside him was just right, he could do one more trick. He flexed and rode harder, getting his sweet spot properly struck, all while giving an unsuspicious Han a lazy, half-lidded smile. But a sharp groan tumbled from his mouth when he began to climax – despite the fact that for several minutes, no hand had touched his cock. And it was going to be even more powerful than he’d anticipated.

Han watched Luke’s eyes roll back in his head and his jaw fall open with the realization of how powerful his orgasm was actually going to be. His whole body quaked, and he struggled not to collapse as it swept through him. He surged and panted and shook as though the pleasure was too much to endure. His hole fluttered around Han’s cock as his semen spilled thickly across his belly. He looked down, shocked at how hard the spurts were; one of them was pooling in the notch between his collarbones.

This was too much to witness. Han felt the inevitability of his own orgasm now, and just laid back, not holding it, not pushing it, just letting it hit him. Luke saw this, and knew exactly what to do: hold himself still and concentrate on squeezing hard around Han’s pulsing cock. But mid-climax, Han caught sight of Luke, whose body was still spasming, just as intensely as Han’s was, and at the same intervals. He remembered what had happened earlier, and understood that having finished with his own, Luke was now experiencing _his_ orgasm. The pulses of his ejaculation were so powerful they were nearly painful, and he and Luke wailed in unison.

As the white-hot urgency slowly dissipated, Han became aware that Luke was struggling to hold himself up. With a final shiver, he let Han’s soft cock slip from his hole, and his arms buckled. His contented body crumpled, and he lay head-to-foot with Han, still more or less on top of him. Han thought it a less than ideal arrangement, with most of Luke so far away, and hauled himself forward to wrestle Luke up so they could hold each other. Slumped and boneless in his arms, Luke appeared thoroughly wiped out, which pleased Han. He gently cupped one of Luke’s buttocks. “You okay back here? I wasn’t too rough with you?”

“I’m fine,” Luke answered eventually, his voice muffled by Han’s shoulder. “I should clean up, though.” Suddenly, and betraying very little effort, Luke hoisted himself up and got to his feet.

This upset Han, and he scolded Luke, “No, don’t get up! If you can walk properly, it makes me feel like I didn’t do my job.”

Luke ignored Han’s whining and shut himself in the ‘fresher for a few minutes. When he returned, he carried a towel, which he used to wipe away the semen that he had smeared Han with as he’d lain on top of him. “You’ll thank me when you wake up not filthy and sticky,” he said. Discarding the towel, Luke climbed back into the bunk, seeming to be satisfied at last.

The bunk was too narrow for two people, but they managed, lying on their sides, Han spooned up tight against Luke’s back. His soft, spent penis was pressed snugly into the cleft of Luke’s behind. Regrettably, he was too wrung out to hope to get another erection anytime soon.

They fit together perfectly like this, Han mused. For this configuration, he was just the right amount of taller. It was his last, lovely thought before drifting to sleep.

*****

When Han awoke, he was alone in the bunk. Behind him, he could hear someone moving around: a whisper of fabric, the slightest click of a boot heel on the floor.

“No, no, no,” Han whimpered. He _hated_ this. He hated being awake when the other person got up afterwards, getting dressed and leaving him alone.

“I tried not to wake you,” Luke said, by way of apology.

Han reached out and tugged on Luke’s sleeve until Luke humored him and sat back down on the edge of the bed. Han considered sitting up, but decided to stay horizontal, in case he might be able to lure Luke into laying down with him.

“I told you,” Luke reasoned, “it would only be one more night.”

Han glanced at the chronometer, confirming his suspicion: “The night isn’t over yet.” He caressed Luke’s back, his thigh, trying to remind him that it was warm and cozy in the bed, and no one would miss him for a few more hours.

Luke, however, seemed impervious to the effort. “I’m afraid that if I stick around too long, I might never leave.”

 _That was the idea, genius._ Demoralized, Han rolled onto his back and sighed. “Yeah, sure, don’t do that. Don’t be tempted into making the same mistake I made, _apparently_.”

Luke turned to place a firm hand on Han’s shoulder. “Don’t compare joining the Alliance with anything I’ve done,” he said defiantly. “The Alliance needs you. It’s stronger for having you. It doesn’t need me. Maybe it did once, but not anymore. Anyone can fly a starfighter. And anyone can keep your bed warm. But I’m the only one that can rebuild the Jedi Order.”

Han snarled, “How dare you even suggest that that’s all you mean to me! To all of us! You mean more than _anything_.”

Luke said nothing. In the darkness of the room, he was just a shadow. A warm, quiet shadow. “We’ll see each other again,” he assured Han.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

With placid resolve, Luke stood and started for the door. Han bolted upwards and reached out for him again. “Please,” he said. “I’m begging you now. How could you leave this behind? After what just happened? How could you put an end to this incredible… _thing_ that we have?”

Luke looked away. “Please don’t make this harder than it is.”

“Is it hard for you?” Han sneered. “ _Is it?_ Because I don’t get the impression that it is.”

Luke turned back slowly, and kneeled by the side of the bed. He took Han’s hand in his own – in his right – and clutched it to his chest. Han’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and before them was the exposed machinery under Luke’s knuckles. When his gaze flicked upward, Luke was looking him dead in the eyes.

“I swear to you,” Luke said. “I swear that leaving you is the most painful, agonizing thing I’ve ever had to do.”

He dropped Han’s hand, stood, and at last walked out the door, leaving Han alone in the dark to think about this.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> berlynn-wohl.tumblr for more of this type of nonsense


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